


Tangled Up In Blue

by roughvoiced



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Angst, Bottom Harry, First Love, M/M, Pining, Through the Years, for the first time ever in my life amazing, idk how to tag this lmao, its like............, of larry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-22
Updated: 2015-07-22
Packaged: 2018-04-07 07:34:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4254792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roughvoiced/pseuds/roughvoiced
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“What about you?” He asks, turning his head to look over at Louis, squinting.</p><p>“What about me?”</p><p>Harry smiles, reaches out to link their pinky fingers together. “Have you ever been in love?”</p><p>Louis hums and lets his eyes slip shut, sun warming his eyelids. “Yeah, I think so. Maybe.”</p><p>“What’s it like?” Harry asks quietly.</p><p>au; Louis finds it difficult to jump. Harry helps him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tangled Up In Blue

**Author's Note:**

> when i originally drafted this fic, i told myself there would be no angst. i lied.
> 
> [russian trasnlation](https://ficbook.net/readfic/3548496)

_For once in my life I couldn’t deny_  
_Thought that I’d found my everything  
_ _A lover, a friend, the hours we’d spend, just doing nothing at all_

 

The water looks terrifying from up here; blue and murky and dark, like it will swallow Louis up if he so much as gets too close. The sun is beating down hot on his back, a line of sweat building around the waistband of his swim trunks but he doesn’t want to move; can’t.

Harry is next to him, bouncy and excited, short hair already wet from when he went swimming earlier, knees grazed where he got too close to the shallow bit. The shallow bit looks far away from here, looks almost further away than Louis’ can see and he thinks that it would take his small legs a long time to get over there; thinks that he’s glad he was already there when Harry got hurt so that he didn’t have to run all the way back to kiss his knees better.

The giant rock only stands a few feet above the surface of the water, but to Louis it feels like miles.

“I don’t know if we should be doing this,” He whispers, chancing a glance over at Harry. His bottom lip is drawn up under his teeth, hands balled into fists by his side as he peers over the edge.

They shouldn’t be doing this. They’re not old enough by a long stretch and their parents have already headed back up to the cabin a long time ago but they’d seen the big boys doing it yesterday, watched with awe as they’d bombed into the pool; laughing and shouting and cheering each other on as they’d taken turns at plummeting their bodies into the icy water.

I want to do that, Harry had breathed out; legs pulled up under his chin, eyes wide as he’d watched them and Louis had watched him; watched his tiny features crinkle up with happiness every time one of the boys was submerged under the water, panic washing briefly over his face until they’d resurfaced.

“It’s okay,” Harry says, reaching out to take Louis’ sweaty hand in his. “You’re a big boy, you can look after us.”

Louis laughs at that, drops Harry’s hand. “Harry, I’m only seven, what if you get hurt again?”

“Are you scared?”

Louis scoffs. “No,” He takes a step closer to the edge just to prove his point, cold air hitting his toes where they stick over the edge.

It’s barely a four foot drop but to Louis it feels like miles. He isn’t scared. He’s terrified.

If he was alone, if Harry wasn’t here, blinking up at him with his big green eyes, he would still be on the ground, feet dangling in the water as he watched the fish. Hell, he might even be back at the cabin now with his mum and his sisters, warm and dressed by the fire but he isn’t. He’s up here in his swim trunks, shivering even though it’s hot out.

He sucks in a breath, concentrating on the way his chest expands, contracts, expands again when he takes another breath, holds it there as he squeezes his eyes tight shut. His mind is racing a hundred miles an hour and he knows, he knows it’s stupid, that this shouldn’t be any more scary that the huge zip wire he went on at Butlins last year or the adventure playground near Grandmas house that he’s only just tall enough to go on but Harry isn’t ever at those places and for some reason, impressing Harry seems to be what he’s most nervous about this time.

When he opens his eyes, Harry is right beside him, teetering on the edge of the rock, eyes bright as he looks up at Louis, reaches out to briefly squeeze his fingers between his own cold ones before he jumps.

Louis watches, eyes wide, as Harry tucks his legs up into his chest, holding them tightly as he crashes into the water bum first, watches as it sucks him under into the deep, dark blueness and, only when the tips of his fingers reappear, does he let himself relax, let’s all the air flush out of his lungs when he sees the grin on Harry’s face, the pure exhilaration and excitement.

“Oh my god,” He says, sounding far away even though he isn’t. “Oh my god, Louis, come on.” Harry says and he’s laughing, bright and loud and Louis is only seven and Harry is only five so he doesn’t really know what love is other than his mum doesn’t feel it about Mark anymore but she feels it a whole lot for Louis and for Lottie and for Harry too. Louis is only seven and Harry is only five but, as he watches Harry splayed out on his back in the water, sun bathing his face in a pretty golden light, Louis thinks he might feel love about Harry the way his mum does about him.

He squares his shoulders, taking a final deep breath as he looks down at his toes, wiggles them against the sun warmed rock and counts them, one through ten and then back down again, nine, eight, seven, six, scrunches his eyes tight shut once more as he breathes out.

“Come on, Lou,” Harry yells, and he’s still laughing, laughing like he’s never going to stop.

Louis looks at him once more, eyes bright in the sunlight as he stares up at Louis expectantly, but patiently; like he might wait a lifetime if Louis asked him to and he can’t even stop the laugh that bubbles from his lips and the happiness that fills his heart.

He jumps.

~

When Harry is nine he gets his first girlfriend. He tells Louis about it in the summer when he’s spread out on one of the stones around the lake. His hair is getting long and curly now, long enough that it fans out around his head when he lies down, like a pillow. Louis doesn’t see him very much these days; he’s at high school and Harry is still at junior, about to start his final year when they go back in September, one more year until they’re back at the same school again. Louis is kind of worried everything will change by then. He hopes it doesn’t.

She’s the same age as Harry, his girlfriend; in the same class too. Jasmine, is her name and Harry says she only started at his school a few months ago. That she moved up from London because her mum has a new job and her dad isn’t around anymore. Harry shows him a picture and she looks pretty, soft skin and long hair and nice eyes, everything that Louis isn’t and he tries not to sound sad when he asks Harry about her and Harry responds with a smile in his voice and in his eyes and it’s not like they were ever dating, they’re not like that, but Louis can’t help but feel jealous even though he doesn’t really have any right to.

So he smiles and he nods and he asks all the right questions and they sit out there long into the day, until the sky turns golden pink and the sun drops below the horizon and everything turns cold and Fizzy is calling down to tell them tea is ready and he tries not to feel too disappointed that they didn’t even touch the water.

~

Louis is barely turned fifteen when he realises he likes boys more than he likes girls; when he realises he doesn’t care for pretty hair and fancy clothes; make up stains on his collars and staying out late to get lipstick marks on his neck. He’s barely turned fifteen when he realises that it's curly hair and green eyes and long fingers that keep him awake at night, the smell of aftershave and musky cologne and the feel of stubbled cheeks beneath his fingertips.

He tells his mum and his sisters at the lake house in the summer and they cry and hug him and tell him they love him and they’re happy and proud and ask him if he has a boyfriend yet so he blushes and nods and tells them quietly about Ben from the year above with a flush on his cheeks and a tremor in his heart.

Harry and Anne and Gemma arrive later that afternoon, right as the sun starts to go down and dip below the golden horizon, when the shadows are long and low on the ground and the summer wind has died down enough not to need a jacket anymore.

There’s a smile on Harry’s face and his arms are warm when he pulls Louis’ into his chest. “Missed you,” He whispers into Louis’ shoulder and it’s probably true, Louis thinks. They don’t see each other as much these days; Harry’s growing up and he’s got his own friends now, ones his own age, and all the girls fall at his feet like dying rose petals and he barely has time to see Louis out of school anymore, always going out with his friends or going on dates with some girl Louis’ seen hanging off his arm in the corridor.

It’s warm down by the water, mayflies and mosquitoes buzzing around their legs but it’s nice; homely and familiar and Louis’ missed this, missed Harry too, of course he has. They barely live three streets away but somehow they never feel that close, feels like they’re a million miles away most of the time and Louis doesn’t know where it all went wrong, when things changed. Can’t ever see it changing back.

They don’t really talk about much at all; school and family and football, trivial things that don’t matter and all Louis can think is that it shows how much they’ve changed, how different they are now. A few years ago they would’ve been chatting none stop, giggling and laughing and touching all over but not now. Now they’re sat three feet apart and Louis thinks that even if they were sat knee to knee they wouldn’t feel any closer.

“Hey,” Louis says and Harry looks up, shocked, like he’s forgotten Louis was ever even there. “I’m seeing someone,” Louis tells him and Harry gulps.

He nods, picks at a few blades of grass that are sprouting up through a crack in the rock. “Yeah?” He says, voice quiet and wobbly. “What’s she like?”

“He.” Louis corrects him.

“Oh,” Harry nods and it’s getting dark out now, shadows falling in long lines across Harry’s face so Louis can’t pick out his expression, can’t see his eyes or his brows or the corners of his mouth. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Louis says, and there’s a genuine smile in his voice and on his face but Harry doesn’t look up to see it.

Neither of them say anything for a long time, instead just sitting, watching as the sky around them darkens into a murky blue haze, the golden hue of day time fading into nothing and it’s not until the church clock a few miles away chimes eleven pm that Harry finally looks up, eyes big and wide and Louis can just make out the way they’re red rimmed in the darkness. “Thanks for telling me,” He says as he swings his legs off the rock and Louis’ can’t tell if he’s being bitter or genuine but he’s gone before he can even think to ask.

~

Louis doesn’t want to go to the lake with his family once he meets Greg; tries to convince his mum to let him stay home, let Greg stay over and sleep in the spare room to keep him company. Jay says no, obviously, because she isn’t about to let him break such a long standing family tradition for the sake of a little summer fling he’s got going on so Louis cries and throws a strop and throws a shoe at his mum before locking himself in his bedroom for three days straight.

Jay drags him outside on the Saturday, kicking and screaming, little two wheeler clunking along behind him. She scolds him and bundles him into the car and refuses to let him play his own music through the aux until he cheers up.

He does, eventually, when they finally get to the cabin, face brightening when he sees Harry lugging Gemma’s suitcase out of the boot, pretty pink flush tinting his cheeks. He looks different than Louis is used to, jeans clinging to long lean legs that are usually hidden under his baggy school trousers, back broad in his white t-shirt, arms flexing as he moves, showing off the barest hint of biceps that are starting to show.

Louis helps his mum unload the car, grinning to himself every time he not so accidentally bumps into Harry each time they pass on the porch, warm bare skin brushing in the early afternoon sunlight.

The eight of them spend the rest of the afternoon unpacking and lounging around in the sun; Louis helping Harry with his summer break maths homework while the girls splash around in the water and their mums drink Cava from plastic cups.

Harry cooks them all tea that night, scrapes something together from the few bits they brought with them as he calls out things for Louis to write on a list ready for when they go shopping tomorrow; eggs and bacon and more bread and maybe some milk.

The sun is still hanging low in the sky by the time Harry is done so Louis helps him heave the big pot of pasta out onto the front porch and up onto the table and they barely have time to take the lid off before they girls are diving in, taking big spoonful’s for themselves, filling their dishes as high as they can, worn out from the long day.

Harry giggles, resting his head against Louis’ shoulder as he lets out a long yawn, crossing his arms across his chest. “M’tired,” He says, and yawns again, turning his face to press into the soft cotton of Louis’ jumper.

“We can go up to bed after dinner, if you like?” Louis asks quietly, bringing his hand up to brush Harry’s hair away from his forehead.

He nods, shuffling a little closer towards Louis before huffing and dropping his arms, taking a seat at the head of the table as Jay passes him a bowl.

Jay makes the girls do the washing up so that the boys can go to bed, makes them some hot cocoa and biscuits and sends them on their way, ignoring Harry’s protests about helping to tidy the kitchen.

They’re quiet as they get changed, fumbling around in the dimly lit bathroom, bumping hips and knees and elbows as they playfully shove at each other for space at the sink, Louis laughing when Harry sloshes water down the front of his t-shirt.

The bedroom they share is small, beds barely two feet apart so even in the dark they can see each other clearly; the slope of Harry’s nose and the whites of his eyes, the few stray curls that always stick up around the tops of his ears.

“Hey,” Louis whispers after a while, low and breathy in case Harry is already sleeping. “Hey, I missed you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Harry snaps, voice sharp and accusing and it takes Louis by surprise.

“Nothing, Harry, I just-”

He scoffs, turning his body under the covers so that his back is facing Louis. “Don’t bother.”

“What is your problem?” Louis asks, voice high and shrill.

Harry doesn’t reply, shoulders rising slightly in a shrug, duvet slipping down his arms a little with the movement.

“Look,” Louis starts, pushing himself into a sitting position. “I don’t know what your problem is, or why you’ve suddenly just flipped when I haven’t even done anything but-”

Harry laughs, flipping himself over and sitting up, duvet pooling around his hips as he mirrors Louis’ position. “First of all, fuck you.” He says, voice raised as he points a finger at Louis. “You don’t know anything, I haven’t seen you in weeks, months probably, outside of school. You don’t even-you don’t even make a fucking effort anymore,” He says, and his voice is loud now, loud enough to make Louis wince. “You never call or text or come round to see me unless your mum forces you, you don’t talk to me at school or anything I don’t,” He sighs, dropping his shoulders in a slump, huffing out a long deep breath as he pinches the bridge of his nose between his fingers. “You can’t just get a boyfriend and drop me like I was never anything to you, Louis. You can’t just say you missed me and make me feel guilty about it when it’s your own fucking fault.” He says, and even in the murky blackness Louis can see the way his eyes are red rimmed and wet, chest heaving with laboured breaths.

Louis nods, gaze dropping to his knees. He nods and takes his own deep breath, eyes flitting up to meet Harry’s. He blinks, staring at Harry for two, three, four seconds before breaking his gaze, swinging his feet out of bed, wincing when his bare skin hits the freezing cold laminate. “I think I’ll share with Lottie tonight,” He says, voice breaking mid-sentence as he grabs his pillow and heads for the door, letting it bang shut behind him before Harry has a chance to comment.

~

Harry doesn’t come to the lake with the Tomlinson’s the next year; too busy gallivanting off with his new high school friends, Anne had said, down south somewhere on a camping trip with their geography class; Harry and Jamie and Alex and probably all his old ex-girlfriends too. Louis tries not to think about it.

Louis’ fine, really he is. Harry’s growing up now, growing up without him and branching off and out into his own friendship groups and there’s really nothing Louis can do other that sit back and watch.

He goes to the park with Lottie and Fizzy in the morning, hides with them under the trees when it starts to shower, warm rain falling in big droplets onto their sweat slick skin and Louis watches as they shriek and laugh, shoving at each other for the driest spot; tries not to imagine how, a few years ago, Harry would’ve been here with him.

They trudge back to the cabin at just gone twelve, the sky now clear and warm and Louis revels in the way the sunlight dries his damp skin as they walk.

Harry calls at quarter to two in the afternoon and Louis almost misses it where his head is submerged under the water, his ears pricking with the liquid, fingers and toes floating away with the tiny wind led current. He doesn’t though, manages to catch it on the second to last ring, launching himself over to the rock when he recognises Harry’s ringtone.

“Hi,” Harry says, as soon as Louis presses answer. He sounds breathless and happy and excited in a way Louis hasn’t heard for a long, long time.

“Hi,” Louis says and he’s smiling too, can’t even help it. “What’s up?”

“I’m coming home,” Harry tells him and if Louis concentrates he can hear chattering in the background, wind rustling against the speaker of Harry’s phone. “Well, not home but there; to the cabin. I need to tell you something.” He says.

Louis nods, says “Okay, sure. I’m here.” When he finally realises Harry isn’t there to see him moving his head, is still waiting for a reply.

“Good,” Harry smiles, and the wind has stopped now. “I just got on the bus; don’t tell mum she’ll go nuts.”

Laughing, Louis says, “Won’t, promise.”

“I know.” Harry says, quiet and private and almost too low for Louis to hear, too low for anyone else he’s certain. “Okay, well I’ll see you soon.” He says. “A couple of hours.”

“Yeah,” Louis breathes out, and then, “Love you.”

Harry snorts. “Love you too, Lou. Missed you bunches,” He says, waits until Louis says goodbye once more, and then hangs up.

He arrives at just gone six, when the sky has already been painted a moonlight blue and cream cascades over the horizon, the crickets in the bushes chattering away amongst themselves right beside where Louis lays, legs spread out across the sun warmed rocks.

He’s wearing gym shorts and a hoodie two sizes too big for him and Louis almost misses him, too busy counting the flowers along the embankment when someone coughs, scares him half to death with no warning.

“Hi,” Harry says, waits for Louis to return it and it’s spookily reminiscent of their earlier conversations except now Harry is walking towards him, thin black gym shoes crunching over the gravel, slow and quiet so that no one up at the cabin hears him but still loud enough to startle the crickets into a soothing silence.

“Can I?” He asks, gesturing with his chin to the rock in front of Louis, waits for him to nod yes before toeing off his shoes and sitting down, legs folded into some weird, uncomfortable looking yoga position.

“Why didn’t you come?” Louis asks and then, “To the lake, I mean. Why didn’t you come here?”

“I’m gay.” Harry says and Louis, well. Louis doesn’t know what to say.

“You didn’t come here because you’re gay?” He asks, eyebrow quirked towards the sky.

Harry laughs at that, loud and sudden enough to startle one of the resting birds in a nearby tree; laughs loud and open and carefree and God, has Louis missed him.

“No,” He says, shaking his head, still giggling to himself. “No, I’m. There really was a geography trip,” He says. “Dorset, I think.”

Louis nods. “Okay. Did you have fun?”

“Yeah, was alright,” Harry says, opening his mouth like he’s going to say some more but then he stops, closes it again as he shakes his head. “S'not why I’m here though,” He says, and Louis isn’t sure whether he’s reminding Louis or himself or maybe even both of them.

“I know,” Louis says, smiles a little at the corners of his mouth and holds out a hand for Harry to take, puts it palm up on his own thigh, leaves it there until Harry is comfortable enough to lace his own fingers through Louis’, holds them tightly. “How long?” Louis asks, and it’s not like it matters in the slightest, just can’t really think of what else to say that isn’t me too, me too, me too, and this is Harry’s moment, not his.

“Couple of days,” Harry shrugs. “Maybe years.”

“Oh, Haz,” Louis whispers, squeezes his fingers tighter. “What happened?” He asks even though he’s pretty certain he doesn’t really want to know.

Harry shakes his head. “Nothing,” He says, and he’s sniffling a bit now, brings his free arm up to wipe his nose on the back of his sleeve. “Was just thinking, the other night. That I kind of knew but I couldn’t admit it to myself. Needed to tell someone.” He says and then, “You. Needed to tell you.”

“Haz,” Louis says and he doesn’t think his voice has ever been so soft.

There’s a warm chill in the air when Harry finally speaks again, curls ruffling around his ears where they’ve come loose from being tucked up under his headscarf. “Don’t tell anyone, will you?”

Louis scoffs, tries not to be offended that Harry thinks he might. “Course not, love. I would never.” He smiles, and he’s struggling to see through the darkness now, can barely make out one object from the next, but he can see how Harry smiles, the way his eyes crinkle and his dimple appears, moonlight shadows washing over his whole face.

“Thank you,” Harry says and Louis has to squeeze his eyes tight shut so he doesn’t say something he’ll regret, so he doesn’t say I love you in a different way to how you love me and I’ve been in love with you for almost as long as I can remember and sometimes I think I need you more than air in my lungs.

Instead he tugs on Harry’s hand with the fingers they still have laced together, pulls gently until Harry looks up at him with big green eyes that shimmer with the reflection of the moon on the pool water. “You ready to go inside?” He asks, watches as Harry nods and pushes to his feet, keeping tight hold of Louis’ hand as he goes.

He waits until Louis is fully upright and steady on his feet before dropping his hand in lieu of wrapping his arms tight around Louis’ shoulders, tugs him in close and breathes against his neck and Louis can’t help but smile at the way he smells like home and safety and security.

“Thank you,” Harry whispers and Louis nods, unable to do much else as they stand pressed together under the crystal moon, holds him close as he thinks about all the ways he could love this sunshine boy if only he would let him.

~

The lake house is already booked for the next year, booked by a pretty young couple celebrating their wedding; Louis knows, he’s seen them, seen the full two page spread their parents bought out for them in the local newspaper. They look happy, he thinks, and he can see it in the way she looks up at him through long lashes, sunlight dancing across their skin as the butterflies fly around in the background like something straight out of a fairy tale, he can see the way she loves him fully and wholly and completely, with all of her being and, as he sits watching the big fat rain droplets slide down the plastic panes of the caravan windows, he can’t help but wish someone would love him like that.

~

Lottie starts getting sick towards the end of July. It’s nothing serious, thankfully, but she can’t leave the hospital and Jay will barely leave her alone for a few minutes, never mind a few days, so Louis’ ends up going to the lake by himself. He had offered to take the rest of the girls with him, even said he’d let Fizzy sit up front for the ride, but they’d said no, didn’t want to go without Jay and Louis’ gets it, he does. They’re young and he’s irresponsible and he probably wouldn’t want to go on holiday with himself either if he’s honest.

Instead, he texts Harry once he’s halfway there, texts him while he’s sat at their table at the Woolyedge Costa, the one in the corner with the sofas and the graffiti on the table leg, the one that he and Harry would sit at every year when they stopped off here for the girls to use the toilet and for Anne and Jay to pick up coffees to fuel the long drive.

He doesn’t expect Harry to reply, is the thing, because Louis can’t even remember the last time he saw him. If he had to guess, he would probably say it was about a year ago, on his last day of school, when Jay had thrown him a little party, a get together for some close friends and family. He doesn’t really know why Jay bothered inviting him, it’s not like they even really speak anymore, especially not now he’s left school.

He does though, his reply vibrating through the wood of the table barely a moment later.

Except, it’s not a text. It’s a call, the plastic casing of Louis’ phone juddering relentlessly against the table top. Louis takes a breath, smooths sweaty palms against the denim over his thighs before reaching out to curl his fingers around his phone, swipes left for answer before he has time to overthink what he’s doing.

“Hello?” He says and the other line is quiet and crackly and, for a moment, he wonders if Harry has called him by accident.

He hasn’t. “Hi, sorry, one second,” Harry says quickly on the other end and Louis can hear rustling, sounds a bit like Harry has got his head inside a bucket.

Louis sighs, slumping down a bit further onto the sofa, propping up his feet on the table. His coffee is still sat there waiting for him, sugar cubes unstirred and melting on the bottom of his mug.

“Hey, sorry, I’m back. Busy at work.” He says, voice light and airy and Louis has to clench his fist in his lap, pinch the bridge of his nose between his fingers.

Don’t worry, is what he wants to say, “You have a job?” Is what comes out and really, it’s like a cold slap in the face, the fact that Louis doesn’t even know that his so called best friend has a job now. He tries not to think about it.

“Yeah,” Harry says and Louis can hear a door swinging open in the background, closing behind him as he emerges out into the silence. “Just a little thing for the summer. I’m at that bakery, you know, the one on the way home from school?”

Louis nods; yeah, he knows it, used to go in there a few times a week when he walked home with Harry. “Sounds nice,” He says, and he means it.

“It’s okay,” Harry tells him, blasé. “Kind of boring without you,” He adds and Louis’ breath catches in his throat. “Yano, because we used to come here and stuff,” Harry says, and there’s a nervous lilt to his voice.

Louis smiles to himself, glad it isn’t just him. “I remember,” He says, voice quiet, barely more than a whisper. “Guess you’re too busy to join me then?” He asks, trying to cover up the way his hands are shaking in his lap.

“Yeah, no, I mean,” Harry stutters and Louis can hear him rubbing a hand over his face, the way he always does when he’s nervous. “I want to come,” He rushes out. “I do, I’m sorry, sorry. Don’t know why I’m nervous.”

“S’only me, Haz,” Louis says, and he is whispering this time, putting his feet back on the floor and hunching forward, holding the phone close to his ear.

“I know,” He says, voice even quieter than Louis’ own.” Sorry,” He gulps, and then, “I’d love to come.” He says, voice back to its usual volume now. “I’ll have to ask my boss, and mum of course.” He laughs.

Louis smiles to himself, reaches out to finally stir his mug, wincing at the way his tea spoon drags through the sludge on the bottom. “Want me to ring your mum?” He asks, taking a sip of his coffee.

“Would you?” Harry asks, and Louis can just picture the way his face has brightened, lips stretched wide, eyes crinkled in the corners.

“Course,” Louis tells him. “Listen, I’m not far from home. I’ll give your mum a call, you ask your boss and, all being well, I’ll come back and pick you up, yeah? Grab a few bits for you.”

“Thank you,” Harry breathes out, and Louis can’t even see him but he’s almost certain he’s never wanted to kiss anyone as much as he wants to kiss Harry right now.

There’s some rustling in the background, someone calling Harry’s name, a young guy by the sound of it and Louis can’t help but wonder who Harry’s seeing at the moment, if there’s anyone or no-one.

“Sorry,” He says a few minutes later, making Louis jump a little. “Liam’s calling me back in but I finish at three, if that’s okay?” He asks, voice low and tentative again.

“Absolutely,” Louis grins, “See you in a few hours,” He says and then, “Love you,” He adds, without even thinking about it before he clasps a hand over his mouth, scrunching his eyes shut, like if he wishes it enough he can pretend like that didn’t just happen.

Harry just giggles, opens the door again and steps back into the hubbub. “Love you too, Lou.” He says, and then hangs up, leaving Louis alone with his thoughts.

Louis arrives at Harry’s house just before half past two and, surprisingly, Anne isn’t shocked to hear from him, instead she welcomes him inside with open arms and a warm smile. Harry’s house is the same as he’s always remembered it; cozy and homely, all warm colours and thick rugs and years old photographs hung on the walls. It smells like gingerbread and Christmas spices even though it’s the middle of summer and Louis almost feels more at home here than he does his own house, feels like he’s returning to something.

“Harry already called ahead,” Anne tells him as he toes his shoes off, resting her shoulder against the bannister. “You know how he worries.” She smiles and there’s flour under her fingernails, Louis notices, a little smeared across her forehead the same way Harry always does when he’s baking.

He chuckles to himself, pushing his shoes into the corner before he meets Anne’s gaze. “Yeah, I know,” He smiles. “Are you, is he okay? To come with me, I mean.”

She nods, takes a step forward so that she’s close enough to reach out and place a floury hand on his shoulder. She smells like that perfume his mum always buys from duty free when they go abroad and cookie dough and her touch is soft. “Louis, love, of course he is. You’re family, you always have been; you know that,” She says, her words quiet and tender. “There’s a bag out for you on the bed if you want to pop some bits in it and I’ve put some things on the dresser that he might need. Just give me a shout if there’s anything else, okay?”

Louis nods, smiles as she ducks out of the way to let him pass by.

“Oh, and, Louis?” She calls out just as his foot hits the top step. “Take good care of him, won’t you?”

He gulps, blinks slowly a couple of times as he nods and suddenly he feels young and vulnerable again, feels like this is a turning point for something, although he doesn’t know what. “Always.” He tells her.

She grins, clasps her hands together. “Alright, well,” She’s giggling a little now, smile just the same as Harry’s. “I best get these cookies finished so they’re ready for you to take with you.” She smiles, huffs out a happy breath before dashing off to the kitchen, leaving Louis alone in the hallway.

Harry’s room is exactly the same as Louis remembers it; white wash walls and muted colours, delicate and precise, just like Harry himself. There’s a little suitcase laid out on the bed, unzipped and open, a few pairs of boxers already neatly laid in the bottom.

Louis takes a few minutes to himself before he starts packing, sits himself down at Harry’s desk, in front of his laptop. There’s a cork board hung up above him, half a dozen sheets of paper pinned up there with animal tacks, the ones that Daisy got him for Christmas a few years ago. There are some photos pinned up there too; of Harry’s parents and Gemma and his friends from school, even one of him and Louis’ sisters. Louis doesn’t even mean to find it, certainly doesn’t go looking for it, just gets curious about one of Harry’s pieces of homework, pinches the bottom of it between his fingers to pull it closer to him.

There’s a photo tacked underneath it, half hidden under two more sheets that are layered on top of it. It’s one Louis’s never seen before; of the two of them. It’s at the lake, he thinks, out back by the looks of it. They’re sat close, pressed together all over; ankles and knees and hips and shoulders, Harry’s head resting on his shoulder, Louis’ arm around his waist. They’re barely five or six, if he had to guess, and he’s surprised Harry’s never shown him before, surprised he never noticed it when they’ve sat down on his carpet and fingered through stacks of photos in the past; wedding photos and holiday photos and baby photos and Louis can’t help but wonder if there’s a reason Harry didn’t want him to see it.

“Hiya,” Someone says, a little breathless, and Louis drops his hand, spins around quickly to see Harry propped up in the doorway. His cheeks are pink, hair tousled, and he still has his work uniform on, apron tied tightly around his waist. “Sorry, thought I’d see if I could get off early. Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“No, I. Hi, its fine.” Louis says, unable to stop the grin from spreading across his face as he walks tentatively towards Harry, arms outstretched before he can stop himself.

Harry sighs, smiles as his chest visibly deflates, walks straight into Louis arms and holds him tightly. “Thank you,” He whispers into Louis’ shirt. “Thought things might be a bit weird between us.”

Louis chuckles, holds Harry tighter. “Yeah, me too.”

They managed to get packed and ready by just gone three, Harry lugging his case down the stairs as the town clock finishes its chimes, Anne wincing at they way the wheels clunk against the wood.

“Okay, so, back on Monday, right?” She double checks, untucking the collar of Harry’s jacket where it’s tucked in on itself.

Harry nods. “Yeah, ‘bout tea time probably.”

“Depending on traffic.” Louis chips in and Anne nods, pecks Harry’s cheek lightly a couple of times before squeezing his shoulder.

“Off you go then, don’t let me keep you.” She smiles, shoving gently at Harry’s hip until he starts to move for the door.

She follows them out onto the driveway to wave them off, pulling Harry back by his wrist as Louis climbs into the car, holds him tight to whisper something into his ear and Louis watches through the rear view mirror as he nods, ducks down to press a kiss to her forehead before giving her a quick wave as he jogs towards the passenger door, grinning at Louis as he tugs it open and climbs in.

“All ready?” He asks, watching as Harry clicks his belt into place.

Harry nods, reaches forward to click on the radio. “Hey, did I tell you Nick got a job interview at Radio 1? Like, a few weeks ago.” He asks as Louis pulls out of the driveway, turning back to wave his mum off out of the back window as he carries on talking. “Yano like, how he’s always wanted to do something like that and there was this ad saying they were hiring so he just went for it. Said it went great, they loved him.”

“That’s great, good for him,” Louis says, clicking on the turn signal to leave Harry’s estate. “Get you with all your famous friends.”

He sees Harry shrug from his peripheral vision, slip further down the seat. “Dunno, not really friends with Nick, just kind of know him. Don’t really have any friends anymore.” He says, sniffling a little, and his voice sounds different; distant and far away and not all together like it’s coming from Harry’s own mouth.

“Hey,” Louis says, reaching across to poke Harry in the meat of his thigh. “You have me, don’t you?”

Harry sniffles again, rubs his nose on the back of his sleeve. “Yeah, I guess.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

He shakes his head, pulls his feet up onto the chair. “Nothing, doesn’t matter. I’m just being stupid.”

“No, c’mon,” Louis probes turning the radio down a few notches. “If you don’t tell me I’m gonna be thinking about it all weekend and then it really will be weird.”

Harry sighs and puts his feet back on the floor again, shuffling his bum to the back of the seat. “I just,” He scrubs a hand over his face, through his hair. “I miss you, Lou, so much. This thing between us, yano, whatever happened, it’s weird. I miss seeing you every day and I miss coming round to yours on the weekend and hanging out. I miss texting you and messing about with you and I miss being able to tell you things, Lou. My parents are getting a divorce, for god’s sake, and I didn’t even have anyone to tell because you weren’t here, not really.” He takes a deep breath, cutting Louis off when he tries to speak. “No, don’t. I know what you’re gonna say. I know you’re gonna say you were here, you’re always here but you weren’t, Lou, not really. And I’m not blaming you, it’s just as much my fault, friendships are two way things, I know that. But I just. You didn’t seem to want to try any more so I didn’t really see the point in wasting my time on something that obviously didn’t matter that much to you.”

Louis swallows, pushes his foot against the break so that they roll to a slow stop beside the pavement. “Harry,” He starts, unclipping his belt, swivelling his body at the hips so that he can face Harry. His cheeks are flushed and pink, the tips of his ears hot and red and his eyes look damp, fringe falling over his face in thick curls.

“Don’t,” He whispers wet and broken, eyes softly slipping shut.

There’s a brief moment where Louis thinks that maybe Harry might ask for him to turn the car around and take him home, back to safety and warmth and comfort, another where he thinks they might just spend the whole trip in silence but then Harry laughs, quiet and low in his throat like he’s just remembered something funny that happened last week or like he’s about to tell a bad joke and it hits Louis right in the gut because he can’t even remember the last time he heard Harry laugh. “What?” He asks, voice barely a whisper as it leaves his mouth.

“I acted like I didn’t care,” He scoffs, turning his head to glance out of the window beside him before looking back to Louis. “But I cared so, so much and who knows. Maybe I accidentally fell in love with you a little bit, I don’t know.”

“Harry,” Louis says again, louder this time but Harry cuts him off.

“No, don’t. Please, just leave it. I don’t want to talk about it. Not right now.”

He nods, pulls his bottom lip up between his teeth as he turns the key in the ignition. “Later though, okay.” He says, indicating to pull back out onto the road but he doesn’t look over to Harry for a response.

The lake house is cold and dark when they finally arrive with their bags and they spend the first two hours of their trip unpacking suitcases and grocery bags, filling cupboards and wardrobes and drawers with more items than anyone could ever need for two and a bit days.

Harry makes them omelettes for tea, overfills them with ham and cheese just the way he knows Louis likes, and they sit out on the front porch together in the darkness, eating in the moonlight and the glow of the three candles Louis had found in the cupboard under the sink.

“Thank you,” Harry says, suddenly, as he finishes off his last mouth full, setting his cutlery down inside his bowl. “For bringing me here.” He clarifies when Louis looks at him lost.

“Oh,” Louis says around a mouth full of food, wiping at the corners of his mouth with his fingers. “Yeah, no problem. Just thought it’d be nice to spend a bit of time together, yano.”

Harry smiles, pushes to his feet and grabs his plate. “I’m gonna turn in for the night, hope that’s okay?” He asks, watching as Louis nods. “The sheets for the beds are in the airing cupboard outside the bathroom and there are some more pillows on the sofa, if you need them.” He says, pulling open the fly screen. “I know you like to sleep with a few.”

“Yeah, okay, thanks. See you in the morning.”

“Breakfast at ten sound good?” He asks, eyes glinting in the moonlight.

Louis sniggers, scrapes the last bit of omelette from his plate. “Sounds perfect.”

“See you at lunch time then,” Harry says with a wink before he disappears through the door and Louis can’t even laugh, can only sit wide eyed and open mouthed, thinking about how easily they’ve slipped back into this routine of teasing and mocking and winding each other up like hardly any time has passed at all since the last time, like the last few years never even happened.

“Night,” Louis whispers into the darkness, long after Harry has gone inside and upstairs and, when he lets his eyes slip shut, all he can see is a mess of Harry, Harry, Harry and that terrifies him; it terrifies him that for the longest time his future has always been Harry, that no matter what part of his future he thinks about, marriage, fatherhood, retirement, all the in-betweens, Harry is always there, always in the foreground with Louis, with their kids, sat in their authentic nineteen forties house with the big porch and the rocking chair by the fireplace. But what terrifies Louis most is that, somewhere along the line, his imaginary future Harry almost completely replaced the real one.

Louis sleeps restlessly; his bed is too hot and too cold all at once, skin clammy sticky and uncomfortable under the covers. He can hear Harry snoring in the next room, the air whistling rhythmically through his nose and Louis tries to let it lull him under, tries to listen to the steady inhale and exhale and let his eyes slip shut but it’s no competition for the  foreign outside noises; the tree branch clunking against the window and the water from the river out back rushing like white noise through his ears.

It’s 4:54 when he finally gives in, dragging his heavy limbs out of bed and into the bathroom to freshen up a little. He washes himself down with cold water and a flannel in the tub, the shower too noisy in the early morning moonlight. He brushes, rinses and spits twice before using the toilet, flipping up the lid and taking a seat. There are a couple of texts from his mum when he checks his phone, asking how the journey was and how Harry is, telling him to have a good time and not get into too much trouble. He ignores the winky face at the end and, instead, turns off his phone.

The living room flooring is cold beneath his toes, chill seeping through his skin and into his bones and he shivers as he trudges into the kitchen to turn on the kettle, blanket draped over his shoulders as he hugs the corners tightly to his chest. He fills his mug and grabs some biscuits before plonking himself back down on the sofa, drawing his feet up under himself.

It’s still mostly dark outside, the moonlight flowing into the room in little slivers through the slats in the blind. He can barely see the lake from up here; trees and shrubbery overhanging the pathway down to the water, flowers and weeds sprouting from the undergrowth. Louis sighs, sinking down into the sofa cushion beneath him, wincing when something hard and sharp digs into the small of his back.

He reaches around behind him, fingers grasping onto something smooth and cold. It’s Harry’s Bukowski book, the yellow cover glaring at him in the dark when he sets it down in his lap. He leans across to flick on the little table top light beside him, warm orangey glow flooding the room, casting everything in a dim golden hue. He sets his mug down on the coffee table, pulls the blanket tighter around his shoulders as he settles fully back against the sofa.

He flicks it open at a random page, somewhere in the middle, and starts flicking through the pages. He barely gets three pages before a flash of bright pink catches his eye. There’s a big pink ring of highlighter around a paragraph on the left page and Louis doesn’t even have time to think about what he’s doing before he’s lifting the book towards his face, eyes skimming over the letters.

“Oh, I don’t mean you’re handsome, not the way people think of handsome. Your face seems kind. But your eyes - they’re beautiful. They’re wild, crazy, like some animal peering out of a forest on fire.”

Louis gulps, reads it once, twice, three times before he takes a deep breath, turns the page again. This time the pen is green, but it’s much the same; big, bright ring around the words.

“I will remember your small room, the feel of you, the light in the window, your records, your books, our morning coffee, our noons, our nights, our bodies spilled together, sleeping, the tiny flowing currents, immediate and forever. Your leg, my leg, your arm, my arm, your smile and the warmth of you who made me laugh again.” 

Yellow highlighter.

“Regret is mostly caused by not having done anything.” 

Louis snaps the book shut, jams it back down the side of the sofa and takes a deep breath, pinches the bridge of his nose between his fingers as he lets his head fall back against the sofa.

He knows everything about Harry, Louis does; most of it from when they were younger, growing up together and curious, knows all the things that anyone would tell their best friend, the stuff you would tell your parents, everything in between. He knows more recent stuff too, like how he’s been seeing Ryan from down the road for a few months now and how he flunked his art class but passed chemistry with flying colours; knows because, even if he doesn’t see Harry anymore, he sees Anne all the time, overhears her talking with Jay on the phone or on the living room sofa, heard her just last week telling Jay about how he thought he’d found the one.

Louis had run straight to the bathroom right after and thrown up until his eyes were watering and his mouth was burning with acid.

The quotes don’t make any sense; sure as hell don’t reflect Harry’s current situation by any means.

Harry appears at just gone five thirty, curls messy and eyes sleepy as he yawns, eyes widening comically when he sees Louis bundled up on the sofa. “I know I was joking about you always being up late but I didn’t expect you to go so far to prove me wrong,” He says and Louis can’t help but giggle at his weak attempt at humour.

“Couldn’t sleep,” He smiles, lifts up his arm and motions for Harry to snuggle up to him under the blanket. “You okay?”

Harry nods as he walks towards him, slips off his trainers and tentatively slots himself up under Louis’ arm, nuzzling into his shoulder when Louis bundles them up together. “Not bad, tired. Woke up a few times.”

Louis laughs. “Why ‘re you up so early then, huh?”

“C’n you turn the light off,” Harry mumbles in lieu of an answer, voice quiet and sleep gravelled, and he waits until the room is bathed in a murky darkness again before he speaks. “Goin’ for a run, out in the woods an’ stuff. S’nice when the sun is just coming up. If you can get up to the creek before seven-ish then you get to watch it break the horizon, yano? Looks all pretty over the houses and the trees, get to listen to the birds waking up and there are always loads of squirrels and stuff.” He smiles against Louis’ bare shoulder, hair tickling the underside of his jaw. “You should come with me one day,” He says around a yawn, tucking himself further up under Louis arm as his eyes flutter shut, lashes brushing against Louis’ arm.

“Maybe,” He whispers, pressing a kiss to the top of Harry’s head as he lets himself drift off.

Louis wakes up a few hours later to the smell of burning bacon, the charcoal-y scent filling his nostrils. There’s the blanket he was carrying earlier draped over his torso and a couple of pillows stacked up under his head, his now cold tea still sat on the coffee table.

He pushes himself up onto his elbows with a groan, his left arm gone dead and slipping out from underneath him so that he falls back against the sofa with an oof.

Harry appears moments later, frilly apron tied tightly around his small waist, spatula in his hand. “You’re awake!” He squeals, excitement lacing his voice.

“Uh, yeah,” Louis says, confused, coughing a little to clear the deepness from his voice.

Harry grins. “I made breakfast slash lunch,” He tells Louis, hurrying over to him with an arm out stretched for him to take a hold of. “It was just gonna be breakfast but,” He glances over to the clock on the wall and Louis’ follows his gaze, eyes widening when he notices the time. “Got a bit late.”

“Oh, fuck, Haz, I’m sorry. You should’ve woken me up,” Louis groans, scrubbing a hand over his face to try and clear the sleep from his eyes.

He shakes his head, tugs a little on Louis’ hand so that he stands up, the blanket pooling at his feet. “You didn’t sleep last night,” He states, voice soft and quiet as he rubs his thumb over the back of Louis’ hand. “You needed it, honestly don’t worry about it.” He smiles.

“Thanks,” Louis says and yawns, brows furrowing when Harry tugs on his hand. “Where are we going? Do I need to get dressed?” He asks, panic lacing his words.

Harry doesn’t answer him, instead, he drops Louis’ hand once they reach the porch and turns to face him, sheepish look on his face as he tucks his hands behind his back, rocks backwards and forwards softly on the balls of his feet. “Been cooking all morning,” He blinks.

“Harry,” He breathes out, taking in the sight before him; piles of bacon and eggs and sausages and plates of toast, boxes of cereal and cartons of juice, a big bowl of fruit right in the middle. “Where did you…all of this? And the time, Harry, how did you have the time? I’m. Wow.” He laughs and reaching out for Harry’s hand and squeezing it between his fingers. “Can I?” He asks, cocking his head towards the chair closest to him, pulling it out and sitting down when Harry nods.

It’s late enough in the day that the sun has risen high into the sky, peeking under the lip of the porch covering and beating down hotly onto Louis’ back where he sits. He can just see the lake from up here, the sunlight glinting off the surface of the water like glitter.

Harry sits down next to him with a huff, his chair screeching against the wood of the floor when he pulls it out from under the table. “There’s a little shop,” He starts, startling Louis into looking up from where he’s buttering his warm toast. “Like, a mile out maybe. It’s kind of hidden away in the trees and stuff so I got this idea like, of making you breakfast, yano.” He reaches out to grab the apple juice, pours himself a glass before continuing. “Anyway, the owner was really friendly, Clive he’s called, and I was asking him about stuff to do like, yano, round here. Turns out there’s a drive in cinema like, a half hour away and they’ve been showing old movies for the past few weeks,” He reaches into his pocket and brings out a couple of pieces of paper, slides them across the table towards Louis. “Hope you don’t mind.”

Love Actually

20:30

Louis gulps, runs his fingers over the letters. “Harry, you didn’t have to do this.” He whispers.

“Sorry,” Harry says quickly, voice breaking on the last letter, as he reaches out to grab the tickets back from Louis. “I’m sorry. I didn’t-Just thought it would be nice. Sorry, don’t know what I was thinking.” He rushes out, voice wet and high as he makes to stand.

“Haz, no,” Louis says, reaching out to grab hold of Harry’s wrist, standing up with him. “Hey,” He soothes, pulling the two of them close. “That’s not what I meant, not at all,” He tells him, cocking his head to the side to look down at Harry where his head is hung, chin pressed against his chest. “C’mon,” Louis whispers, hooking his forefinger up under Harry’s chin, lifting his head until their eyes meet. “I’m sorry, if that’s how I made it seem, so sorry,” He says, letting his voice drop to a whisper at the end. “Thank you, so much. This is a lovely surprise; I just meant you didn’t need to spend all that money on me, love. I don’t expect you to do things like that for me. But I do appreciate it, so much.”

“Got a good few years of my shitty friendship to make up for, ‘aven’t I. Gotta start somewhere.” He shrugs, the fabric of his shirt brushing against Louis’ wrist.

Louis frowns. “No, Harry I don’t-I don’t want you to do it because you feel like you have to. I don’t need you to make up for anything; you should know that, just you being here with me is more than enough, okay?” He tells him, letting go of his chin to take hold of Harry’s face between his palms. “Promise me one thing; promise me you’re here because you want to be.” He whispers, dropping his forehead against Harry’s.

He hears Harry take a deep breath, nodding against his head before he whispers, “I promise,” and pushes his head forwards until their lips brush together, barely the softest of touches before he pulls away again.

The sun is still hot on his back, burning through the fabric there when he opens his eyes, Harry’s face so close to his own that its blurred, pink skin and red lips and long black lashes all bleeding into one another under his fingertips.

Harry pulls away, eyes wide as he staggers backwards. His skin is glowing with the reflection of the sun, golden flecks glimmering around the colour of his eyes. He looks beautiful, always does, but now. His hair is still tousled from his morning run, curling round the tips of his ears where it’s drying after being damp with the sweat; his shirt is clinging tightly to his shoulders, his biceps, stretched taut across his thin hips and probably his back too. His skin is golden and warm and Louis wants to put his mouth all over it, taste the sun on it like whiskey on an October night.

“Harry, you’re so beautiful,” He whispers, laughing breathlessly as he trails his fingers down the side of Harry’s face, watching as his eyelids flutter shut under the pads of his fingers. “Come here,” He says quietly, thumbing gently at Harry’s bottom lip.

“Why?” Harry asks, voice barely audible, but he shuffles closer to Louis anyway.

Louis grins, wraps his fingers around the back of Harry’s neck, tangles them in the hair at the nape. “Because I want to kiss you,” He tells him, leaning forward to press their lips together, properly this time.

Harry’s lips are wet and warm beneath his own and he kisses just like Louis has always imagined him to; soft and slow like sticky sweet molasses on a hot day and Louis thinks he could probably do this forever if Harry would let him. He tastes like apple juice and faintly like the mint of his toothpaste near the back of his tongue.

His eyes are closed when Louis’ pulls back, thick lashes fanned out across his cheeks, lips pink and swollen. “Sorry,” Louis whispers, swallowing loudly.

“It’s um,” He coughs. “It’s okay. I should probably, yano,” He jerks his thumb towards the door. “I need to wash up.” Harry says quickly.

Louis nods. “Yeah,” He says, watching as Harry rushes towards the door and yanks the fly screen open. “Okay.”

He eats breakfast alone and tries to pretend he can’t hear Harry sniffling on the other side of the kitchen window.

Louis doesn’t see Harry for the rest of the afternoon, only even speaks to him once to ask if he wants to get dinner that night.

He finally appears in the evening, all dressed up in his leather jeans and a fancy shirt looking like he’s just stepped off a catwalk, and they take the car into town, parking up on the outskirts so they can catch the Park n Ride into the centre, wandering around as they look for somewhere to eat.

Harry seems different, distant,  and he walks far enough away from Louis that people keep walking between them to get past, bashing their elbows as they go.

They settle on a little fish restaurant overlooking the river to eat, the elderly woman that serves them seating them right on the edge of the balcony. The menu is posh and expensive and it’d taken Louis a good ten minutes to convince Harry that they should eat there; promising him that it was amazing and worth it and, after the surprise he’d given Louis earlier, that he wanted to treat him to something half decent.

“We used to come here when I was little,” Louis says once they’ve ordered their drinks, eyes scanning the menu. “Mum used to bring us sometimes when she was dating Mark. They used to have these bread baskets and little bread cakes shaped like fish and crayons that looked like octopi.”

Harry smiles at him over the brim of his menu. “It sounds nice. I think I remember you telling me about it actually. That summer when you came to stay and we sat in the garden catching grasshoppers for our circus.”

Louis snorts. “Yeah, god, I remember that. And then mum caught us and made us let them all go. I was proper gutted. Hey, remember the time we built that tent in the garden out of blankets and slept out there?”

“Obviously,” Harry grins, tension slowly dropping from his shoulders. “And then it rained in the night and we woke up soaking.”

The waitress smiles as she brings over their drinks, smiles again when she asks if they’re ready to order and then some more when Louis tells her no, not yet.

They end up ordering a fish to share and it comes piled high with greens and potatoes, Harry’s eyes widening as the waitress sets it down between them.

“Shit, Lou, this is gonna cost you a fortune.” He gawks, prodding at the tail with his fish knife.

Louis rolls his eyes. “Just eat it and stop worrying,” He laughs. “I’m a big boy now.”

Harry just nods and sips at his water. “Yeah, I guess so.” He says quietly.

The air outside is warm and humid when they leave and they walk close, arms pressed together, until they find a small bakery thats lit up golden in the night time. They duck inside and buy a pastry each, Harry chatting up the cashier as he pays for them both, smiling as she writes her number on the back of the receipt and hands it to him with a coy smile and his change.

He waits until they’re around the corner to bin it and hand Louis his pastry, smiling at him small and private under the glow of the street light. “I think I saw some benches down by the river if you wanted to sit down?” He asks and Louis nods, following him down past the bustle of the shops and the restaurants until they reach the quiet of the river side, the place they’d eaten at earlier not far away.

They stroll along the water's edge for a few minutes until they find an empty bench partly lit up by the moon and the light from the apartments above and the two of them sit with their backs to the metal arms, legs crossed in from of them.

“Don’t,” Harry says as Louis opens his mouth to speak.

Louis stutters. “S-sorry, what?”

Harry smiles, squints up at him with one eye. “Don’t say you’re sorry for earlier. Don’t lie to me.”

Louis nods and takes a bite of his bun. “Okay,” He says once he’s swallowed, rubbing his thumb against the corner of his mouth, and doesn’t mention it again.

Harry pops into a couple of shops as they walk back to the bus, Topman and All Saints and all the poncy shops Louis can’t stand so he waits outside each time, waits with his back against the walls and his legs crossed at the ankles, checking his phone to pass the time.

He doesn’t get any texts but he gets an Instagram notification telling him David Beckham has posted a photo while Harry is in Burton so he views it and likes it before sending a quick text to his mum and then slips it into his pocket for later.

It’s dropping cold when they finally reach the bus stop, Harry shivering in his thin shirt so Louis offers him his jacket, cursing himself when Harry accepts and he has to slip it off and hand it over, leaving himself in just a t-shirt.

Harry barely talks as they ride back to the car, his eyes drooping shut every few minutes, head falling forward for the briefest of moments before he springs back awake, head shooting upright like nothing has happened.

“You should have a sleep in the car,” Louis says, nudging Harry’s side with his elbow. “Try and get half an hour in before we get home.”

Harry nods. “Maybe,” He says, resting his head against Louis’ shoulder.

They finally get home at just gone eleven, the drive home having been stretched out because of roadworks and closures and diversions and Harry is hard on when Louis pulls into the driveway, his head smushed uncomfortably against the window.

“Harry,” Louis says quietly as he shuts off the engine, watching fondly as Harry sniffles as turns his head. “Harry,” He says again, louder this time, and again when Harry doesn’t respond.

He ends up hauling Harry, still mostly asleep, out of the car and up onto the porch, fumbling to unlock the door while Harry leans against him like a dead weight.

They just about make it into the living room before Louis gives up, settling Harry down across the length of the sofa, covering him with blankets instead of trying to get him upstairs.

“G’night,” He whispers, smoothing Harry’s hair off his forehead and leaning down to place a soft kiss on the skin there, jumping when he tugs weakly on the hem of Louis’ shirt.

“Stay,” He says hoarsely but he’s asleep again before Louis can even tell him no.

Miraculously, Louis wakes up first the next morning; managing to get up and showered and dressed and all the way to Starbucks and back before Harry even stirs.

He finally wanders out onto the porch at ten thirty seven, last nights clothes still rumpled on his body.

“Shit,” He laughs, voice deep and sleep gravelled as he scrubs a hand over his face. “I’m shattered.”

Louis smiles and sets his book face down on the table. “You slept almost a full twelve hours, I’m not surprised.”

“God,” He says, slumping against the door jamb. “I missed my run.” He yawns. “Hey, do I have time to shower?” He asks, gesturing at the table and then down at himself. “I feel kind of gross but I don’t want the food to spoil.”

Louis nods. “Course, I can just stick it in the microwave when you get down, no rush.” He smiles.

“Great, thanks, you’re a star.” Harry grins and then disappears back inside.

“I was thinking,” Harry says as he walks back outside a good half hour later, making Louis jump as he lets the fly screen bang shut behind him. “I don’t want yesterday to make things weird, yano? I mean, I came out here to make things right, to make up for all the stuff we’ve missed over the years and we can’t do that if we’re both still stressing over yesterday. So, if you have anything you want to say, I think now would be a great time and then we can just get on with enjoying the rest of our day.”

His hair is still damp and dripping from his shower and the only thing covering his body is the towel wrapped loosely around his waist, the top half of his body already starting to dry in the late morning sun.

Louis gulps, setting his almost empty mug down on the table as he watches Harry pull out the chair across from him and take a seat. “Well,” He starts and takes another sip of coffee. “I think that I’m not sorry at all for what happened and I don’t regret it one bit and I’d be more than happy if it happened again but I don’t want to make you uncomfortable so I’m happy to just be your best friend again.” He says slowly and carefully, watching Harry as he speaks.

“Okay,” Harry says, pulling the foil off his breakfast sandwich, reaching up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind his ear. “I appreciate your honesty and I am too, not sorry for what happened and, for the record, I wouldn’t be offended if it was to happen again,” He shrugs, taking a bite. “Just to put that out there.”

They spend the rest of the afternoon sprawled out on the rocks around the pool, the sun beating down on their bare torsos and Harry talks for a long time, Louis listening carefully as Harry fills him in on the past few years of his life; tells him about his mum and dads divorce and Gemma’s jackass boyfriend and about how he thought he almost got a girl at school pregnant a few years ago, about how all the friends he ditched Louis for turned out to be pieces of shit and how he’s pretty sure he was a tiny bit in love with his old French teacher.

“What about you?” He asks, turning his head to look over at Louis, squinting.

“What about me?”

Harry smiles, reaches out to link their pinky fingers together. “Have you ever been in love?”

Louis hums and lets his eyes slip shut, sun warming his eyelids. “Yeah, I think so. Maybe.”

“What’s it like?” Harry asks quietly.

“It’s like,” He takes a deep breath, fiddles with the cord ties on his swim shorts. “It’s like a cold drink on a warm day and a jumper in the winter. It’s like when you finally find that one thing you’ve spent months looking for in a place you never suspected it would be and it’s like when you’re sick and your mum brings you soup without even having to ask. It’s like someone saving you a piece of cake or offering you their jacket. It’s like someone sharing their umbrella with you even when it’s too small for two people and it’s like when someone remembers that you take two sugars now instead of just one.” He turns to look at Harry. “It’s like coming home.”

Harry blinks at him, soft smile on his lips. “It sounds nice,” He breathes out. “I’d like to be in love, I think.”

“What about Ryan?” Louis asks, brows furrowing. “Your mum said things were getting pretty, I dunno,” He waves his free arm around a little. “Serious.”

Harry scoffs. “No, I. No.” He shakes his head, hair swishing against the rock. “He’s nice and stuff but, no. I broke up with him actually, a few days ago.”

“Shit, Haz, I’m sorry.”

Harry laughs. “Don’t be. I’m not sad about it I don’t think. It was for the best. He kept saying I was distracted and stuff. I guess he was probably right.” He says, half shrugging.

Louis hums, swats a fly away from his face. “What, work and stuff?”

He shakes his head. “S’not important.” He tells Louis, tilting his head back into the sun. “I just wasn’t really in it for the right reasons, I don’t think.”

“Hmm, a rebound, wild.”

“No,” Harry says quietly. “Not a rebound. More like a, um, I dunno. I just wanted to make someone jealous. It was stupid. Didn’t work anyway.”

Louis squeezes his fingers, pulls his hand up to press a kiss to the back of Harry’s hand. “Well they’re stupid then.” He smiles before tilting his head up into the sun like Harry.

“Maybe.” He whispers and closes his eyes.

Harry starts baking just before the sun starts to go down, lining the kitchen counters with butter and eggs and milk and flour and decorations in every colour of the rainbow.

Louis hops up onto the counter next to the fridge to watch him, water from his toes dripping into pools on the floor.

“I hope you’re gonna wipe that up,” Harry says without looking up from his bowl, flour gradually disappearing into the brown sludge as he stirs. “If one of us stands on that we’ll go flying.”

Louis scoffs. “Jesus, how old are you? Eighty?”

“I’m serious, anyway,” He thrusts the bowl into Louis’ lap. “Mix this.”

“What the hell is this?” He asks and Harry looks at him.

“Chocolate cake mixture, what does it look like?”

He shakes his head. “No, not-I meant this.” He asks, brows furrowing as he picks the whisk out of the bowl, watching as the batter slides off the end.

Harry squints at him. “Louis,” He says slowly. “Thats a whisk.”

Louis nods, humming pensively. “I’ve never seen a whisk before.”

“Um,” Harry blinks at him. “Are you joking, or,”

Louis snorts. “Of course I’m joking you dick,” He laughs, flicking some of the batter at Harry’s face, grinning to himself when it gets stuck in his eyebrow. “M’not a total idiot.”

“Debatable,” Harry mumbles and Louis throws the whisk at him.

“So apparently,” Harry says as he tugs the car door open and plops back into his seat. “You’re supposed to bring your own headphones to this kind of thing.” He tells Louis with a huff, slumping down in his seat.

“Oh,” Louis says, eyes wide and blinking, before he starts to laugh loudly, hands coming up to cover his mouth as his eyes crinkle at the corners.

Harry frowns. “Hey,” He drawls, pout on his lips. “S’not funny. I paid a lot of money for those tickets, got dressed up special and made a picnic and everything.”

The sky outside has gotten fully dark now, glimmering stars littering the heavens as far as the eye can see. There are probably about fifty or sixty cars here tonight, rows of sevens lined up in front of the massive screen. They’d managed to arrive almost an hour early in the hopes of blagging a front row spot however a fair few people had obviously been organised enough to do the same and, instead, they’d had to settle for the far end of row two.

“I know, Harry, shit. I’m sorry, I should’ve known.” Louis smiles sympathetically, reaching across the console to put a reassuring hand on Harry’s knee, squeezing gently.

He sighs again. “I mean, I looked on the website, I thought I’d covered everything. Can’t even get something this simple right.”

“Hey,” Louis scolds, brows furrowing in the center. “Don’t be like that, huh. It’s not your fault at all and besides, not like we’ve never seen this movie before.”

Harry lets out a breathy laugh, cocks his head to look at Louis. “I guess,” He says and he’s smiling now.

“Between us we’ve probably seen it enough times to recite the script ourselves,” He teases, making Harry giggle. “And anyway, this way we can just eat dinner in the quiet, have another chat.”

“So, kind of like,” Harry swallows, “Like a date?” He asks gingerly.

“Yeah,” Louis says, not letting his eyes leave Harry’s even for a second. “Just like a date.”

They set up the blanket on the hood of Louis’ car and sit with their backs against the windscreen. Harry’s legs are long enough that they poke off the end of the bonnet if he doesn’t cross them and it makes Louis smile as he watches Harry try to wrangle himself into some sort of lotus position.

“That looks painful,” He says, wincing as Harry pulls his leg up into his own lap.

“I do yoga,” Harry tells him by way of an answer so Louis just nods and hands him a paper plate.

“I wasn’t sure what you wanted for tea,” Harry starts, watching as Louis unloads the food onto the bit of empty blanket between them. “There’s like, meat and stuff and some left overs from breakfast and some of the bread I picked up at the shop this morning. I think there’s some of that cake I made this afternoon in there for afters too.”

Louis smiles, reaches out to take Harry’s hand in his, squeezing his fingers softly. “Harry, love, don’t worry. You’ve outdone yourself, honestly. It looks amazing. You’re amazing.” He tells him, watching as his cheeks flush a dark crimson pink and he ducks his head in embarrassment.

“Thanks,” He says quietly.

Harry cries before the movie is even halfway done, eyes spilling over with big fat tears as he nuzzles closer into Louis’ side, rubbing at damp eyes with the sleeve of his shirt.

“You know,” Louis says. “I’ve never seen you not cry at this film and yet, I thought maybe having no sound night change that.” He smirks.

They ended up watching the film instead of talking almost as soon as Harry caught his first glimpse of Hugh Grant, eyes going wide as he mouthed along to the words in his head.

“Once,” Harry comments, tearing his eyes away from the screen to glance up at Louis. “I didn’t cry once. I was with Gemma, she had some friends round and I was trying to impress one of them. She was like, five years older than me and had a boyfriend,” He smiles to himself glancing across at the couple in the red Corsa next to them. “Never stood a chance.”

Louis smiles. “Harry,” He says, waits for Harry to look at him again before he leans down to press their lips together, soft and slow and perfectly timed to the one on screen.

Harry tastes like peach Schnapps and quiche Lorraine and his fingers are gentle where they come to rest on Louis’ neck and, even though it’s only happened a few times so far, Louis thinks maybe his lips were destined to be with Harry’s.

“Sleep with me tonight,” He whispers once they pull away. “Please.” He asks, watching as Harry’s eyes widen.

“Louis, I-”

He shakes his head. “Not like that.” He smiles, soft and private, taking hold of Harry’s hand to lace their fingers together. “Just in my bed, next to me. I really like you, Harry, God, I have done for the longest time, and I know you probably don’t see me like that, I get it, I do. But please, just let me have this one night.”

Harry laughs, drops his head to rest on Louis’ shoulder. “Shit, Lou,” He laughs, bringing his hands up to rest on Louis’ face, holding it still as he presses their foreheads together. “You’re such a dick,” He says and he’s still laughing as he kisses Louis, firm and insistent this time and it feels like the start of something, like the end of an era but the beginning of something magical. “Louis, I’ve been in love with you since I was like, twelve, fuck I can’t even remember ever not being in love with you.”

Louis blinks at him, heart racing in his chest. “Why-why didn’t you say anything?” He forces out, mouth dry.

“And ruin what we had? God, Louis, I’ve been losing you for years and it killed me,” He tells him, shaking his head. “Lou, you we’re my best friend, are my best friend, and yet you were falling further and further through my fingers every day. We barely even spoke, I couldn’t risk losing everything over what I thought you’d probably just dismiss as some silly crush. I didn’t want to push you the last little bit over the edge.”

Louis scoffs, breathes into his hands where they’re closed over his mouth. “I would never,” He whispers. “Never ever.”

“I didn’t know that back then, Lou, neither of us we’re even out.”

“Harry,” Louis smiles, reaching out to hold his hand again. “I think I’ve been in love with you ever since you told me about that first girlfriend you had, before then, maybe.”

Harry nods. “Jasmine? Yeah, she was hot.”

“Harry,” He whines, squeezing harshly on his fingers. “I’m trying to have a moment here.”

He giggles. “I know, I know.” He laughs, reaching up to grab Louis’ neck with his spare hand, tugging him closer. “But, for the record,” He whispers against his lips. “You’re much hotter.”

Harry is relentless on the way home, touching and squirming and vying for Louis’ attention; hand on his thigh and on his shoulder, fingers constantly grazing the inner seam of his jeans, the crease of his thigh.

They end up pulling over on the freeway after barely five minutes, Harry’s eyes dark as he clambers across the console and into Louis’ lap, immediately grinding his hips down.

“Harry,” Louis whines, whimpering as Harry attaches his lips to his neck, sucking harshly as he reaches down between them to ruck up Louis’ shirt, resting his cold fingers against the warm skin there, gently grazing his fingertips against Louis’ stomach. “Harry, please.” Louis warns, reaches up to grab at Harry’s hair and tug his head back.

Harry just groans loudly, eyes slipping shut as he rolls his hips again. “Harder,” He whispers, grinding down some more when Louis tugs at his hair again.

“Fuck, Harry, we can’t,” He says, drawing in a shaky breath when Harry reaches up to brush his fingers against the mark on his neck. “We can’t.”

Harry shakes his head, claws his nails against the waistband of Louis’ jeans. “Please, Lou, please just let me.” He whispers, flicking the button open.

Louis sighs, lets his eyes slip shut and his head fall back against the seat, lifting his hips up a little when Harry tries to shimmy them down over his thighs. Then he stops. Louis peeks his eyes open, watches as Harry runs his hands over his face, takes a deep breath. “Hey,” He says, smile in his voice. “Everything okay?”

Harry scoffs, shakes his head. “I’ve never,” He coughs. “Never before. With a guy, I mean.”

“Oh,” Louis blinks. “But I thought, assumed-Ryan?”

Harry blushes and ducks his head. “No, I um. Didn’t want to. Wanted to wait,” He looks up at Louis through his lashes. “Kind of for you.”

“Shit,” Louis laughs, grinning at Harry. “Shit, Harry, c’mere,” He says, barely giving Harry time to blink before he’s surging forward to capture his lips in a bruising kiss, hands coming up to grip tightly onto his waist.

Harry groans low and long into his mouth, hands scrabbling at the elastic of his boxers. “Can I?” He whispers and waits for Louis to nod before pulling them down slightly, just enough for the head of Louis’ cock to poke out. “Fuck,” Harry breathes out, resting his forehead against Louis’ as he stares down between them. “I’m gonna…” He starts before drawing in a shaky breath and pushing his hand inside Louis’ pants, gripping him loosely under the material.

“It’s okay, baby,” Louis tells him, reaching up to put two fingers beneath his chin, lifting his face to meet his gaze. “Go slow, don’t worry,” He smiles, dropping a feather light kiss to Harry's’ lips. “I’ve got you,” He says as he pulls away.

Harry nods, pulls his hand back out and lifts it to his mouth to lick a fat stripe across his palm. “Saw them do that in porn,” He says and Louis snorts, can’t stop himself from bringing their lips together again right as Harry takes fully hold of him, hand firm and strong around his dick.

Harry brings him off in long firm strokes, watching with wide eyes and his head still pressed against Louis’; watches as he tips Louis over the edge and he comes all over Harry’s hand and the bottom of his own shirt, eyes heavy lidded, breath thick, chest heaving with laboured breaths.

“Harry,” He breathes, sated and sleepy and Harry just shushes him, kisses the corner of his mouth softly.

“I know,” He says, kissing him again as he wipes his hand off on Louis’ bare thigh. “I know.”

Louis laughs breathily in the back of his throat, opens one eye to look down at Harry. “Can I?” He asks, running his fingertips over the bulge in Harry’s jeans.

He flushes. “No need,” He says quietly and Louis’ eyes go wide.

“Did you-I. In your pants?” He asks.

Harry nods sheepishly.

“Fuck,” Louis mutters quietly and then, “Fuck,” He says, louder this time. “Fuck, Harry.” He’s laughing now, hands coming up to take hold of Harry’s face. “Fuck,” He says again and he’s still laughing when he presses their lips together and kisses Harry hot and wet and firm. “God, you’re so hot, Harry,” He scoffs and Harry giggles, tucks his face into the side of Louis’ neck.

“Not so bad yourself,” He whispers into the skin there and usually Louis would laugh at how cheesy and so, so Harry that is except this time it doesn't sound like he’s joking.

“Come on then,” He says, patting Harry’s hip. “Let’s get you home.”

Harry nods into his neck, sighing like climbing back into his own seat is the biggest hardship he’s ever had to deal with but he goes quietly, slipping back to his own side without a word .

The cabin is cold when they finally get back, the fire in the corner having died down long ago, so Harry sets about chopping some wood out on the front porch while Louis makes them both some tea.

Harry’s phone is out on the counter by the kettle when he gets in there, glowing with a new message in the darkness. He flicks on the light and drags himself over to the sink to switch the kettle on. It’s a text from Harry’s mum, he see’s when he leans over to look, another one from Bakery Liam left unopened below it from a few hours ago.

He smiles to himself and pockets Harry’s phone while he waits for the kettle to finish boiling, filling two mugs when it finally does.

Harry is still chopping when he gets outside, hair pulled back in a bun at the back of his head to stop his curls falling into his eyes where he’s bent over a stump, prying apart two pieces of wood with gloved hands.

“Need a hand?” Louis says into the darkness and Harry jumps, head snapping up to look at Louis with big eyes.

He lets out a heavy breath when he sees it's only Louis, swipes the back of his wrist across his sweaty forehead before tugging off his gloves and tossing them onto the table. “No, it’s okay. I think I should have enough to last till morning at least?” He says, voice lilting into a question at the end.

Louis smiles and holds one of the mugs out for him to take. “Looks good to me,” He grins.

The air outside is still warm despite the late hour, the sky around them pitch black except for where the moon streaks through the cloud and lights up the corner of the deck. It’s noisy with nighttime creatures and the rustle of trees and bushes but yet it still seems quiet; the sound of their breathing the only thing his ears are really picking up.

“I should probably shower,” Harry says after a few minutes, long fingers toying with his bottom lip.

Louis nods. “Sure,” He says and watches as Harry takes a gulp from his mug before setting it down beside his gloves on the table and heading for the door.

“Hey, um,” Harry stops in the doorway, spinning on his heels to look back at Louis. “Is this gonna be like, awkward again? Yano, because of-” He shrugs.

“You mean because you wanked me off in the front seat of my car and then came in your pants like a fouteen year old virgin?”

Harry pouts and looks at the floor, kicking out at the step and, even in the darkness, Louis can still see the flush creeping onto his cheeks. “Yeah. That.”

Louis smiles to himself. “Are you gonna make it awkward?” He asks and Harry looks at him. “Because I was serious when I said I wanted to sleep with you tonight and I’d quite like to wake up beside you in the morning too,” He grins, walking over to Harry. “Unless you were planning on getting up early to make breakfast again?” He smirks, wrapping an arm loosely around Harry’s thin waist.

“I do still have some eggs left,” Harry smiles coyly and Louis snorts.

“Well,” He says, kissing the corner of Harry’s mouth softly. “I guess that settles that then.”

The double room is bigger than Louis remembers, the two of them having opted to sleep in the singles last night rather than fighting over the master. The en-suite door has been left slightly ajar, the steam from Harry’s shower billowing out into the room, heating it slightly around the edges.

There’s an old storage heater propped up in the corner so Louis dusts it off and plugs it in, standing in front of it for a few minutes to warm up a little.

Harry has already laid his pyjamas out on the bed so Louis grabs his from the pile of stuff he’s brought in with him and heads over to the bathroom, knocking lightly on the door.

“Hey, can I come in or do you want me to wait?” He calls, waiting for Harry to shut the shower off.

He does almost straight away and, when Louis peers into the bathroom, he can see Harry’s reflection in the big mirror when he pops his head out from behind the shower curtain. “Yeah, course. Could you grab a towel for me on your way please?”

Louis grins and grabs one of the big blue bath towels from the pile on the chair next to him. “See nothing's changed there then,” He smirks, holding the towel open for Harry to step into, letting his eyes slip shut as he listens to the rustle of the curtain material.

“You don’t have to close your eyes anymore, yano,” Harry says as he steps into the towel, humming contentedly when Louis closes it around him. “We’re not twelve.”

They’re dangerously close when Louis opens his eyes, their noses barely a hair's breadth apart and Louis can feel Harry’s breath fanning out over his top lip, the water from his damp hair dripping onto his shoulders. “I’m not gonna take advantage of you, Harry. This is new, we’re new. I’m not about to go and fuck it all up already just because I can’t keep my hands to myself.”

Harry laughs. “God, Lou. I wouldn’t have said you could come in if I’d been bothered about you seeing anything, would I?”

“Hey,” Louis says, brows furrowing. “I’m serious. I want to get this right, Harry. I’m not planning on losing you again.” He tells him.

“I know,” Harry whispers, letting his forehead drop against Louis’. “I know.”

He smiles softly. “Look, if you wanna set some ground rules we can do that tomorrow, okay? But for now I really just want to get some sleep. I barely got five minutes last night.”

Harry nods, takes the towel from Louis’ hands and ties it loosely around his waist. “I’ll be in the bedroom, okay?” He asks, fingers grazing Louis’ jaw.

“Yeah,” Louis smiles and kisses him softly, lingering there for a few moments before Harry pushes him away with a gentle hand to the chest.

“Don’t be long.” Harry smiles, small and private and Louis nods, watching as Harry disappears back into the main bedroom.

He takes his time getting ready; changing and washing and brushing his teeth and, by the time he’s finished, Harry’s already dried and sat up in bed, the small orangey glow of the bedside lamp on the dresser next to him the only thing lighting up the room.

“Comfy?” He asks, making Harry look up at him from his book.

His long legs are stretched out under the covers, duvet pooled around his hips. There are a couple of pillow propped up at the small of his back, one behind his head where his damp hair is pushed back, periodically dripping onto the bare skin of his shoulder. His tattoos are a stark contrast to the pale colour of his skin and the whole room smells faintly of the peach body cream that's on the dresser beside him. “Not bad,” He smiles, flicking back Louis’ side of the duvet. “Kinda chilly under here, though.” He smirks.

Louis laughs, watching as Harry dog ears the top of his page and slips his book shut, placing it onto the floor next to the bed. “You coming?” He asks, turning to lay on his side, head propped up on his hand.

“Jesus, do I need to bring some grapes to feed you with?” Louis laughs, tossing his clothes onto the top of the chest of drawers in the corner before slipping into bed beside Harry.

The light from the lamp makes Harry look even more beautiful somehow; makes his eyes shimmer golden and the wispy ends of his hair glow like November fireworks and Louis can’t even stop himself from reaching out to smooth his fingertips over the skin of his cheek.

“Don’t move,” He says and it comes out quiet in the murky light.

“Why?”

Louis smiles. “Because I’m looking at you.”

Harry flushes right down to his core, eyes flitting down to stare at anything but Louis. “We should go to sleep.” He whispers and Louis laughs a little.

“We should,” He says and reaches past Harry to turn the light off, immediately drowning them in the moonlight blackness.

“I dreamt of you, you know,” Harry says moments later, hands clasped tightly around Louis waist. “I always dream of you.”

Louis smiles and tangles their legs together, leans forward to press a kiss against Harry’s forehead. “Go to sleep, love,” He whispers against the skin there and so they do.

Harry is still sleeping when Louis wakes up the next day, eyelids paper thin and blue tinted where they sit softly over his eyes. His lashes look long in the dim glow of the morning sunlight and his cheeks are flushed from the warmth of the room, the little storage in the corner still chugging out heat. Their legs are sweaty where they’re pressed together under the covers, their torsos clammy, but it’s nice, homely and sweet and Louis thinks he probably wouldn’t mind waking up to this every morning for the rest of his life.

He lays awake, watching Harry for the best part of an hour, the sunlight streaking in through the slats in the windows where they forgot to close the curtains last night, the birds chattering away in the trees outside.

Harry starts to stir around mid morning, eyelids twitching open to blink big glossy eyes up at Louis. “Hi,” He says, almost like a whisper, voice deep.

“Hi,” Louis smiles, watching as Harry yawns, letting his eyes slip shut for another second before he sighs.

“Can we just stay here today?” He asks, nudging his leg further between Louis’. “Like, in bed. All we have to do is pack later.”

Louis grins, nodding. “Sure, whatever you want. I need to pee though.”

“I can make us some food while you get sorted? We could have a bath later?” Harry suggests and Louis hums, leans forward to press a kiss to the corner of Harry’s mouth before flicking back the covers and swinging his legs out of bed.

“Sounds good,” He smiles and disappears into the bathroom.

Harry is still downstairs when he finally emerges, banging around and washing up by the sound of it, so Louis starts gathering up their stuff while he can, emptying drawers and cupboards and wardrobes, piling it all on the chest at the foot of the bed for them to pack later.

They eat their breakfast in bed when Harry brings it up; eggs and soldiers and bacon and hot tea laid out on pastel coloured trays and they’re quiet but it’s nice and, if they were older, closer, Louis could see them doing this with the kids every Christmas morning.

“Do you want kids?” Louis blurts suddenly and Harry stops, looks at him with a piece of toast halfway to his mouth.

“Pardon?” He asks, lowering his hand.

“Sorry, I um. I just-Do you? Want kids, that is. I was just thinking.”

Harry smiles. “Yeah,” He says. “Hundred percent.”

“Even as young as you are?”

He grins, lets his hand drop to the duvet to toy with Louis’ fingers, curling their pinky fingers together softly. “Yeah, absolutely. What about you?” He asks quietly.

“Yeah, probably. I think so. I’d like a girl, I think.” He says

“You’d be a great dad,” Harry says quietly, poking at his last big of egg with some bread. “You’re so good with the girls, Lou, you’d be amazing with one of your own.”

Louis flushes, cheeks heating embarrassingly under Harry’s gaze. “Thanks,” He whispers, glancing up at Harry through his lashes. “You too though, the girls love you to bits, Haz. They’re always asking when you’re coming over again.”

Harry blinks at him. “Yeah?” Louis nods. “Why didn’t you ever say anything?”

Louis shrugs, flushes some more as he looks away, picking at his last bit of bread with a blunt fingernail. “Didn’t think you’d wanna see me,” He says quietly, ignoring Harry’s whispered oh, Louis. “I thought that like, yano. We hadn’t spoken in so long and I couldn’t just text you and be like, hey the girls wanna see you because then you’d think I didn’t care about you anymore and really I was just scared.”

Harry’s lips are firm and insistent where they press against Louis’, warm and wet and soft and Louis doesn’t even try and stop himself from kissing back, hand fisted in Harry’s shirt as he tugs him closer.

“Louis,” Harry pants, pushing him away with a firm hand on his chest and Louis’ heart drops.

“What?” He asks, voice dropping as he rests his forehead against Harry’s.

Harry laughs, pecking his cheek softly. “Gotta move the trays,” He smiles.

“Fuck the trays,” He mutters and Harry snorts as he starts to shuffle the plates around.

“I mean, sure, we could try that if you want,” He winks, laughing when Louis throws his pillow at his head.

They kiss and grind until they’re both hard and panting and somewhere along the way Harry has lost his shirt, his skin hot and sticky where is brushes Louis’, his hair fanned out against the pillow, lips pink and swollen. “Want you,” He breathes out. “Want you more than I’ve ever wanted anyone before.”

Louis gulps. “Harry,”

“No,” He whispers. “Don’t say we can’t, don’t say it’s not right or it’s too soon. I want this, I’m ready. You. I want you.”

Louis smiles, ducking down to kiss him hard and long and dirty. “Alright,” He nods as he pulls back, looking down at Harry as he sits back on his haunches over Harry’s thighs, spreading out his fingers against his toned tummy, running them up and over his nipples and down his sides just to see him shudder. “Alright,” He says again and hops off the bed and into the bathroom to grab the lube and a condom from where he’d preemptively hidden them at the back of the cabinet.

Harry is naked when he gets back, laid back against the pillows lazily stroking himself, duvet pooled at his feet and it knocks the breath entirely out of Louis, makes him stagger back a few steps until he hits the door frame, want curling in his belly. “Fuck,” He breathes out and Harry smirks.

“You gonna just stand there and watch or are you gonna get your clothes off and get over here?” He quips and Louis just gulps, nods blindly before chucking the stuff onto the bed so that he can wrangle his joggers down his legs, tossing his sleep shirt in the general direction of his suitcase.

“Shit, Harry,” He breathes out as he clambers back onto the bed, settles above Harry with a knee either side of his thighs. “How do you want it?”

Harry blinks, every ounce of courage he’d just had leaving his body. “Can you, um. Like this, please,” He blushes. “I’d like to see your face, if thats okay?”

Louis kisses him hard and opens him up slow, wet and slick with three fingers jabbing at his prostate until Harry is whimpering and shuddering beneath him, begging for Louis to just fuck him.

He presses in deep and slow, watching obsessively as Harry’s face scrunches up in pain, relaxes again after a few moments, keeps watching as he pulls back out, pushes in again faster this time, watches to make sure Harry is okay, that he’s happy.

Harry comes barely a few minutes later, comes long and hard, clenching around Louis as his face relaxes into pure bliss, his hands grasping at Louis’ shoulders, his back, his hips.

Louis follows him over the edge not long after, spilling into the condom with a groan that he hides in Harry’s neck, collapsing heavily against his chest.

“Thank you,” Harry whispers a few minutes later, fingers carding through Louis’ sweaty hair, trailing softly down his back.

Louis scoffs. “Never had that before,” He laughs breathily, dropping a kiss onto the skin beside Harry’s nipple. “But, you too, thanks.”

“I’m glad it was you,” He says softly and he’s smiling when Louis finally musters the energy to move his head and look up at him.

“Yeah,” He smiles back. “Me too.”

They set off back home at just gone four, their suitcases hauled up into the back of Louis’ little car as Harry waves goodbye to the house.

“You back at work tomorrow?” Louis asks as he takes the turning for the motorway back up north, indicating as he goes.

Harry hums, grabbing the aux cable. “Yeah, unfortunately. You?”

“Yeah,” He nods and then he pauses. “Keep in touch, won’t you?”

Harry turns to look at him, eyes wide. “Absolutely, I promise. I mean, aren’t we like. Yano.”

“What?” Louis smirks over at him, eyebrows raised.

“You know,”

He smiles. “Yeah, I do but I want you to say it. Want to hear you say it.”

“I’m not saying it,”

“Say it.”

Harry groans, hiding his face in his hands. “Boyfriends,” He mumbles. “Are we boyfriends?”

“Do you want to be?”

“Louis, jesus, stop being so difficult,” Harry yells but he’s laughing, his face open and bright. “Yes, I want to be.”

Louis grins. “Want to be what?” He asks, glancing over at Harry.

“Stop it, god,” Harry laughs, grinning when Louis reaches across to take hold of his hand, pulling it to rest against his thigh.

“Please,” Louis whispers. “Say it.”

Harry grins, rests his head back against the headrest and looks over at Louis. “Yes, Louis, I would like to be your boyfriend.”

Louis smiles at him small and soft and breathtaking, squeezing Harry’s fingers gently between his own. “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to hear you saying that.”

They stop off at the services on the way back just like normal and Louis uses the bathroom while Harry orders them both a Costa; tea for Louis, hot chocolate for him.

Louis finds him sat at their usual table, the one in the corner with the sofas and the graffiti on the table leg, phone pressed tightly against his ear. “Yeah,” Louis hears him say as he takes a seat on the sofa opposite him, swinging his legs up onto the table. “We’re on our way back now...yeah, it’s been nice, we’ve had a nice-no, don’t worry mum, god.” He rolls his eyes at Louis and covers the mouthpiece with his hand. “Mums,” He whispers at Louis, who laughs, before carrying on with his conversation. “Honestly, mum, we’re fine. We just stopped off for a drink we’ll be home in an hour, stop fussing...yeah, love you too, bye.”

“You in trouble?” Louis asks, taking a sip of his drink through the plastic, wincing when it burns his tongue.

“Apparently Gemma told mum that there’s a new club opened just down the road from the house so now she’s panicking that we’ve spent all weekend blind drunk and doing drugs.”

Louis snorts. “God, I love Gem.”

“Heeeey,” Harry drawls, pouting at him over the rim of his travel cup.

Louis grins. “Don’t worry,” He smiles, scooting forward to run his toe up Harry’s calf. “I love you more.”

They get home just before six, Louis backing into the driveway just as Anne opens the front door to greet them with a wave.

“You can come in for a bit, if you want?” Harry suggests, watching as Louis hauls his suitcase out of the boot, propping it against the side of the car.

He shakes his head. “It’s okay, I better not. Promised mum I’d be home before seven so that she could go visit Lottie.”

“Oh, yeah. How is she by the way?”

“She’s good.”

Harry nods. “Good.”

They stand there awkwardly for a few minutes, Louis rocking back and forward on his heels as Harry messes with the handle on his case.

“Listen,” Louis says, finally, and Harry looks at him. “It's been a really nice weekend-” He starts but he’s cut off when Harry flings himself at him, arms wrapping tightly around his neck, face smushed against Louis’.

He’s startles, arms stiff for a few moments before he finally realises what’s happening, hugs Harry back tightly, holding him closer than ever. It’s colder back home, the sun hiding behind the clouds but Harry’s body is warm where it’s pressed against his, solid and firm and smelling like a mixture of hot chocolate and peach body lotion and Harry.

“I miss you already,” Louis whispers and Harry sniffles, buries his face further against Louis’ shoulder.

“Don’t make me cry,” He laughs wetly, pulling away slightly to look up at Louis. “I love you.” He smiles, leaning forward to press their lips together a final time, soft and sweet but meaningful, like he’s trying to tell Louis everything he wants him to hear without having to use words.

“I love you too,” He whispers against Harry’s lips as he pulls away, kissing him softly once, twice, three more times before he finally lets go. “I should probably go before we get an audience,” He laughs, running his tongue along his bottom lip.

Harry inhales, shakes his head. “Fuck ‘em,” He grins and hauls Louis back in with a fist in his shirt.

~

“No offence but I’m sure we never came this way before,” Harry says, squinting down between the trees where they’re pulled over at the side of the road. “We definitely never came this way.”

Louis rolls his eyes. “No, dummy. It just looks different because you’ve never been the one to drive down before, usually it’s me. Trust me, I know.”

“No, I’m certain. We used to take a left back at that roundabout and then go past that nice pub on the right and come out on that bridge over the river.”

Louis sighs, pinches the bridge of his nose between his fingers. “We didn’t Haz, that's further on, we haven’t got that far yet. You need to go left here and then-”

“Fine,” Harry huffs, unbuckling his belt, letting it snap harshly against the door. “If you know the way so well, you fucking drive.”

“Harry,” Louis says, voice low.

“What?” He snaps, and then, “Sorry.”

Louis smiles, rests his palm gently on Harry’s thigh. “Just relax, okay? Take a deep breath,” He says and Harry does; breathes in deep through his nostrils, lets it back out again. “Good, now. Pass me your phone and I’ll Google it and have that app thing talk you through the directions.”

Harry snorts. “You mean maps?”

“Shut up and put your seatbelt on,” He says, snatching Harry’s phone from between his fingers, ignoring the little ooh, feisty that follows. “It’s your fault we’re in this mess in the first place.”

“Um,” Harry starts, clicking his seat belt back into place, squirming around in his seat a little to get comfy. “You’re the one who suggested we come here for our honeymoon, I chose Greece.”

Louis scoffs. “Yeah because I thought it might be nice to come somewhere with some sentimental fucking value.”

“It is,” Harry reassures him, waiting for his phone to start speaking before turning the engine back on. “I’m just saying we would get less lost in Greece.”

“Harry, you can’t even find your way to somewhere we’ve been a million times before what on earth makes you think you could successfully navigate your way around a foreign country with nothing but paper maps and road signs in a different language?

Harry hums and indicates right to pull back out onto the road. “See, this is why I love you.”

“What?” Louis asks. “Because I know how much of an idiot you are and yet I still put up with you?”

Harry just sighs and carries on driving.

The weather forecast for the fortnight had been dreadful; thunder and lightening and heavy showers back to back for the full two weeks but, miraculously, the weather today is as glorious as the first time they were ever here. The sky is painted a swirling eggshell blue, barely a cloud to break it up, the sun beating down on them from above as they start to unpack; suitcases and bags of leftover wedding food and copious amounts of gifts that had only just fit into the car.

It takes them a long time to bring everything inside, the living room stacked high with decorative boxes and gift bags and stacks of cards in fancy envelopes, overflowing onto the kitchen surfaces.

They’ve opened a few already; the ones from their close family and friends and the one Wendy from next door had thrust into Louis’ hands just before they set out, rushing out in her slippers and her dressing gown just to catch them in time.

None of it is anything overly exciting, mainly just stuff from the wedding list for the new house, a few little ornaments that weren’t. There’s the summer holiday from Jay and Dan and the deposit for the new car that's arriving next month from Anne and Robin, the new sofa from Gemma and her boyfriend and some money from the girls because they kept arguing over what to buy them.

They’ll open the rest tomorrow morning, probably, once they’ve gotten unpacked and unsettled and had a good nights sleep.

Harry’s gotten changed before Louis has even brought in the last few boxes, skimpy yellow swim shorts he’d bought last year tight around his thighs, the little pudge of his hips spilling ever so slightly over the waistband.

“Someones eager,” Louis smirks, setting the boxes precariously onto the sofa. “Not gonna wait for me?”

Harry rolls his eyes. “The water isn’t going anywhere, Lou, and neither am I.” He says, grinning when Louis walks closer and wraps his arms loosely around Harry’s waist.

“Damn right you’re not,” He smiles, reaching down with his spare hand to play with Harry’s ring finger, fingertips running softly over the cool metal there. “Never gonna get rid of me now.”

“Good,” He whispers, leaning down to peck Louis’ lips. “Your swim stuff is on the bed.” He grins, kissing the corner of Louis mouth once more before skipping off towards the door.

They spend the rest of the afternoon lounging down around the water, reading and chatting and reminiscing and swimming, Harry counting the little fish as he goes. It’s peaceful and quiet in a way Louis’ life hasn’t been for a long time.

“Hey,” Harry says after a while, disturbing Louis where he’s floating softly through the water. “You wanna jump in?” He asks but he’s already hoisting himself up out of the water, biceps straining under the pressure.

“Is it even deep enough?” Louis asks, squinting through the sunlight to watch Harry climb up onto the big rock at the head of the pool.

He shrugs. “Dunno, but we’ll soon find out,” He grins. “C’mon, for old times sakes.”

Louis groans and dunks his head back under the water once more before climbing out onto the rocks, following Harry’s wet footprints with his own. “The things I do for you,” He mumbles, rolling his eyes when Harry knocks their shoulders together.

“You love me,” He grins, leaning down to press a kiss to the damp skin of Louis' shoulder as he tangles their fingers together between them.

Louis smiles at him. “I do,” He says and lets Harry shuffle them both closer to the edge, the tips of their toes poking off the rock, the wind licking at them softly.

Harry looks at him one last time, squeezes his fingers between his own. “You ready?” He asks and Louis grins, suddenly transported back to the first time they did this; when Harry was five and he was barely even seven, back when the sky shone blue all the time in Louis’ world and everything was soft and loving Harry was as easy as breathing.

He nods, squeezing Harry’s fingers in return as he glances out over the water. “For anything as long as its with you.” 

 

**Author's Note:**

> find me on [tumblr](http://larrytrash.tumblr.com/) if you want.


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